When Carl wakes up, I excuse myself from his room to give him and his dad a moment to speak alone. Stepping out of the farmhouse, I can't stop the grin that takes over my face.

I did it- I finally found people, a group, to join.

As I quickly jog down the farmhouse steps, my thoughts of happiness are interrupted by a voice behind me.

"What's got you looking so happy?" Maggie's voice breaks through, and I turn to find her sitting on the porch railing, one leg propped up on the banister.

Excitement still coursing through me, I meet Maggie's curious eyes with a cheerful smile. "Oh no big deal, I just became a member of their group," I quip with a playful shrug and Maggie responds with an enthusiastic smile.

"That's great news, I'm happy for you. Carl doin' okay?" Maggie checks, her concern evident as she leans forward.

I nod, ascending the porch steps to join her. "Carl is a strong kid. His stats are stable and I think he'll recover completely," I tell her briefly, my pride and relief evident in my expression as I lean against the railing next to Maggie. The warm morning breeze pleasantly blows through the porch, jostling our hair.

Maggie hops down from the railing and stretches. "That's great Cass, I'm glad he's doin' better. I've got to do some chores, but I hope you have a nice day," Maggie says with a friendly smile, but I stop her before she can leave.

"Wait- please let me help. I want to contribute to earning our keep here," I insist, bringing a smile to Maggie's face.

"Okay doc, let's go," Maggie agrees with a grin, leading me off the porch and into the farmstead, where the sun is steadily rising in the sky.

Over the course of the day, Maggie and I work together on various tasks. We collect eggs, clean the coop, fetch water from the well, tend to the horses and chickens, and care for the garden. In the midst of our labor, we share stories and conversations, getting to know each other.

As we go about our chores, Maggie curiously throws me a question. "So, have a guy or gal waiting back home?" She asks before freezing, looking at me with regret behind her eyes.

If he were alive, he would be with me.

I offer a reassuring smile. "It's okay, we all forget. And no, not anymore." I say thoughtfully, glancing down at the basket of eggs I'm holding, my stomach twisting slightly at my next words.

"I had a fiancé. But he... hurt me. A lot. So I uh- got a restraining order against him and from that moment on, focused on work and not men," I admit awkwardly as Maggie nods with understanding, fishing out the last couple of eggs from the coop.

"I'm glad you knew your worth. Otherwise, you'd be stuck with him at the end of the world," Maggie comments, a note of humor in her voice as she places the eggs in the basket I'm carrying, adding a slight weight to it.

Smiling slightly to myself, relief and gratitude wash over me because she's not treating me like a victim.

"Oh yeah, that would've been awful," I mutter with a slightly bitter laugh, suddenly feeling very appreciative that I left him when I did- a few months before this all happened.

I decide to switch the topic and tease her a bit. "And what about you? Anyone catching your eye?" I nudge her playfully, my curiosity getting the better of me.

A slight blush creeps on her cheeks as she shakes her head, leading me away from the coop.

"No, not yet," She smiles and averts her gaze, her short brown hair falling to shield her face. I'm not entirely convinced, especially after seeing the way Glenn looks at her, but I don't push further, respecting her privacy.

Later that afternoon, once Maggie and I wrap up the chores, I decide to seek out Daryl in the hopes of getting him to teach me hunting and shooting. My skills in these areas are practically nonexistent, and I want to contribute more to the group's survival efforts. And learning self-defense during this walker-infested world seems like a good idea.

I find Daryl at the stables, engrossed in tinkering with a motorcycle. It's quiet here, the only sound being the clinking of his tools against the engine and cicadas going off in the distance.

I understand why he spends time here, it's peaceful.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. I've been told you're a good hunter and shot- d'you think you could teach me some stuff?" I request gingerly, watching nervously for his reaction. I know he's not exactly Mr. Popular around here, but for some reason, I feel like I can trust him.

Daryl glances up from his motorcycle, looking me up and down once. "You look different when you're not covered in shit," he grunts with a sniff, looking back at the motorcycle.

I sigh.

I doubt I'll ever live that down.

"It was not shit, it was mud to help me camouflage so I could catch a raccoon. That was before you, Glenn, and Andrea ruined it," I huff, crossing my arms with frustration and shifting my feet on the uneven dirt.

Daryl squints at me under the bright sunlight. "We ain't the reason you didn't catch that racoon," He replies gruffly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

I huff. "Well no, that's why I'm asking for your help," I get out exasperatedly, my brows furrowed.

Daryl takes a second before finally glancing at me, his eyes assessing me once again. "Fine. 'Cause you saved the girl." he concedes roughly, standing up and chucking his tools aside, making me smile.

Together, Daryl and I venture into the woods, finding a small clearing that's perfect for our purpose. After collecting some supplies, Daryl shows me how to make snares fit for a small squirrel all the way up to a large possum. I watch carefully, making mental notes of his technique, trying to commit it to my memory.

Daryl shows me how to tie the twigs together and connect them with twine, explaining the mechanics of how the animal gets caught. Then, he tells me to make one of my own, with no help from him.

I follow his instructions, attempting to replicate how he made the snares. I struggle considerably, taking twice as long as he did. Daryl watches silently, not helping as I struggle.

Eventually, after a lot of effort, I finish my snare. To test its capability, we toss a rock onto the bait, and the snare triggers almost immediately. I can't contain my excitement and let out a squeal of joy before impulsively hugging Daryl. Pride and enthusiasm fill me as I embrace him.

Then reality hits me, and I release him quickly, taking a hurried step back, my eyes wide. "Uh sorry," I breathe sheepishly as Daryl studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable.

" 's alright," is all he manages, squinting his eyes slightly as he assesses me. The awkwardness is broken when he changes the subject, announcing that he'll help me with my aim.

He lets me borrow his crossbow to not draw any walkers to our clearing or waste ammo like we would with a gun.

Daryl lends me his crossbow to avoid attracting walkers and wasting ammunition. He then proceeds to teach me the basics: breathing techniques, proper bow handling, and managing recoil. Not too long in, I start to get the hang of it.

He grunts with approval, I think. "You learn quick," he grumbles with a slight nod.

"You're a good teacher." I respond honestly, giving him a warm smile, then tilting my head thoughtfully. "And I guess 12 years of surgical training taught me to grasp things quickly. While performing an appendectomy seems easier than this, I think I'll catch on quickly," I chuckle, walking over to rip out the arrows embedded in the bark of the tree at the end of our clearing that we've been using as a target. I toss the arrows back to Daryl, who catches them adeptly to reload his crossbow.

"You're tellin' me some fancy surgery is easier than shootin' a crossbow?" he questions dryly, making me shrug, thinking about the comparison.

"Well-" I begin, but my words are cut short by the horrifying sound of a walker's groan, just inches to the right of me.

Fear jolts through me, and I instinctively recoil, fumbling for the knife on my belt. The grotesque walker reaches for me, its milky eyes trained lazily on my face, the jaw hanging off its hinges. The nauseating stench of death infiltrates my nose, turning my stomach and not helping my already panic-filled body.

The walker suddenly gets thrown to the right as an arrow flies through its skull and snags it to the tree beside me.

I gasp, my breath shaky, realizing how close I just came to dying. My heart thunders against my ribcage as I stare at the twice-dead creature pinned to the tree in front of me, lifelessly snagged to the tree.

Daryl steps forward, yanking the arrow out of its skull, causing the corpse to slump on the ground as he reloads his crossbow. "You good?" he asks gruffly, and I nod absentmindedly, my heart still hammering in my chest.

"T-thank you," I stammer, my chest heaving as I glance back at his slightly concerned eyes.

He jerks his head in acknowledgment, looking around the clearing before shifting his gaze back to me. "Let's go back," he decides, turning and leading the way toward the farm. I steal one last glance at the lifeless creature on the ground before following him, my chest tight with leftover anxiety.

As we trudge through the forest and back to the farm, I watch the back of Daryl's head. I can tell he isn't one who trusts easily- his tough exterior is enough to show that. But I have a sneaking suspicion that once you earn that trust, that respect, you have a loyal friend for life.

He might be an outsider in the group, rough around the edges and challenging to get along with, but there's a reason he's stayed. It's clear to me that he cares deeply; otherwise, he wouldn't have tracked down Sophia as efficiently as he did or taught me what he has.

Once we reach the stables once again, where his motorcycle has been waiting for him patiently, we part ways.

"Thanks again for the help and handling the-"

He cuts me off. "Don't worry about it. You saved Sophia, you're 'lright with me," he replies with finality, plopping down and getting back to fixing the motorcycle.

Clearly, our conversation is over so I nod, a small smile growing on my face at the prospect of a new friend.

Heading back to the farmhouse to check on Carl once more, I'm intercepted by Carol and Lori as they hang clean clothes on a makeshift clothesline.

"Hey, we're thinking of making the Greene's a dinner as a thank you for hosting us and helping you with Carl's surgery. Would you mind helping out?" Lori enquires as she pins a red t-shirt on the clothesline, her eyes studying me.

"Oh yeah, that sounds like a great idea! I'm exactly... talented in the cooking department but I would love to help," I offer sheepishly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

One of my biggest failures is cooking- the one skill I never seemed to master. That and lying- neither of which help me much in this new world.

Carol and Lori nod in appreciation and let me know that they'll come to get me when dinner prep starts.

As I begin to walk away, a nearby scoff catches my attention. Curiosity getting the better of me, I glance up to see Andrea on the roof of the RV, cradling a shotgun in her arms and looking out at the empty farmland.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" I ask, furrowing my brows and crossing my arms as I face the blonde from below.

"It's just a shame to see another woman revert to being a brain-dead slave. All the women do around here is laundry and cook meals like it's 1965. It's ridiculous." Andrea huffs with evident disgust, shaking her head and pursing her lips.

Beside me, Lori and Carol go quiet, their discomfort clear.

I raise my eyebrows. Wow.

"So, I'm brain-dead now for wanting to help cook a meal?" I snarkily confirm, tilting my head to the side, squinting up at Andrea through the setting sun.

Andrea lets out an exasperated sigh.

"That's not what I meant. I was hoping you would be strong-willed and stand up against patriarchal ideals like that. It's pathetic," She spits, making me scoff with disbelief.

I roll my jaw, anger flaming up in me. Alright then.

"Okay, I don't need a lecture from the woman who stands around holding a gun all day while enjoying the clean clothes and meals these women make. And let's not forget that it was Dale who made us breakfast." I point out harshly with furrowed brows, causing her to avert her gaze.

"Now, I'm not a stranger to sexism- no woman is. And I was a female surgeon. D'you realize how difficult that is? I'm guessing you don't," I say sharply, making her look down at me, annoyance written across her expression.

"I get where you're coming from- I do. The men should help out more. But that's no excuse to be puttin' down these women for doing their part. That is pathetic." I spit with disgust before stalking away, not bothering to see her reaction.

When I check back on Carl this time, he's awake and Rick is gone. Something about him, Shane, and Dale going hunting in the forest.

Sophia sits by Carl's side talking animatedly as he watches her with an entertained expression.

"Sorry to interrupt you two, but I need to take some of your vitals, Carl, is that okay?" I ask, and he nods, sitting up properly in bed.

"Sophia was tellin' me about when you found her," Carl informs me with an excited grin as I grab the BP cuff.

I smile, glancing at Sophia. "Oh yeah?" I ask with amusement, Sophia smiling widely back at me.

"Yeah! It's so cool because you saved both of us, like a hero of kids or something!" Carl enthuses, making me chuckle as I wrap the BP cuff around his small arm.

"That's sweet of you to say Carl, but I've spent many years working to save the lives of children in the hospital, I was just doing my job," I respond dismissively with a modest shake of my head.

"It was part of your job to kill walkers attacking kids?" Sophia asks, her eyebrows raised knowingly. I knew that girl is smart.

I laugh. "Touché," I grin, writing Carl's blood pressure on his makeshift chart.

As I take Carl's vitals, Sophia and Carl bombard me with curious questions about the process, and when I trick them into believing I'm measuring Carl's heartbeat when I'm really taking his respirations they go crazy.

After I'm finished, I let them know that Carl is healing well, much to their happiness.

"Does that mean that he can come to play outside?" Sophia asks, those large brown eyes shining with hope. Technically he could, but I don't want to risk it. He still has to be sore and I don't want to risk him ripping his internal stitches.

"I'm sorry, I wish he could, but he's still recovering and if he plays- he might make it worse and have to get surgery again," I explain gingerly. The two kids nod with understanding, disappointment evident on their little faces as they sit back.

"The good news is that I've spent a lot of time helping bored kids in the hospital find fun and safe games to play, so who wants to do something?" I ask enthusiastically, making the duo smile widely, excitement flashing in their eyes.

I teach them a couple of card games and other ways to expand their imagination safely. We start one of the card games until I hear someone clear their throat from behind me.

Turning in my seat, I see Lori standing there with a smile.

"Hey, kiddos. Cassandra, do you think you could help us with dinner now?" Lori addresses me, and I nod, rising from my seat.

"Okay, I'm heading out, but I expect a full report on who wins, okay?" I demand with raised eyebrows. Sophia and Carl nod eagerly before getting back to their game, making adoration grow in my chest at the innocent sight.

Lori leads me to the kitchen at the back of the house, where Carol, Maggie, and Beth are already starting to prep the ingredients for our meal.

"Hey, I just wanted to say that what you said to Andrea for Carol and me was really nice. Thank you," Lori thanks me as we walk through the old house, our footsteps loud on the old hardwood floors.

"Yeah of course. I can't stand people like that," I reply, looking down, guilt gripping my stomach, hating the fact that I'm friendly to Lori while harboring a secret attraction for her husband.

We arrive in the somewhat crowded kitchen, the setting sun shining through the large window above the sink. Lori and I are assigned vegetable preparation, so we head to the back of the kitchen to wash and cut the necessary veggies.

"You're really good with kids. Is that just from your job or...?" Lori trails off expectantly as she washes some carrots and celery in the large porcelain sink.

"Oh. Well, most of it is probably from my job, but I was engaged to a man who had a kid from a previous marriage," I explain simply as I wash some potatoes, and she nods, looking down at the sink.

"Were you still engaged when the turn happened or was it before?" Lori pries further, making my potato scrubbing become a bit more aggressive.

She asks a lot of questions.

"It was before," I answer simply, tossing the potato into the strainer.

"Oh well that's good," She comments absentmindedly as she moves the clean vegetables to the other side of the kitchen for chopping.

Yeah, it's good I got away from that coward before because I'm sure he would've fed me to the cadavers to save his own skin.

About half an hour later we finally finish preparing the dinner and call everyone in to eat.

The room is quiet besides the clinking of silverware on plates as we devour our meal.

Glenn turns around from the smaller table that seats him, Maggie, Beth, and Beth's boyfriend, Jimmy, who I haven't had the pleasure to meet yet.

"Does anyone know how to play guitar? Dale found a really cool one the other day," Glenn asks hopefully, looking at the rest of us expectantly.

I glance up from my plate as no one answers him. "Come on, someone has to know how to play," Glenn requests with an eager smile as he watches us. A couple of people exchange glances.

"Otis used to play," Patricia responds quietly, her expression tense and eyes full of grief.

As the words leave her mouth, I sense Shane tensing beside me. Glenn nods, awkwardly turning back around at the table with a cringe. I glance covertly at Shane, who takes an aggressive bite of his food, chewing anxiously.

What's with this guy?

"So Cassandra, any crazy surgeon stories to share?" Carol suddenly asks me from the other side of the table, clearly trying to bring some humor to ease the thick tension in the room.

"Oh, uh let me think," I answer sheepishly, looking down for a moment, trying to remember a funny and less gory story to share while we're all eating. Finally, one pops back from the depths of my memory.

"Well, when I was a surgical intern doing rotations, we had this one guy," I start, a smile creeping on my face at the memory. The room watches me patiently, and I'm glad the kids are in another room as I begin the next part.

"Basically, he was allergic to all pain medications, but had chronic pain because of ulcerative colitis," I explain, as everyone continues to watch me expectantly.

"So, he came to the hospital for a colostomy, and we had to do rounds. My best friend Sophie and I came in to get his vitals, and guess what we see? He and his wife in the room just- watching porn!" I reveal with a light laugh, making Carol gasp and Glenn choke on his food.

Chuckling at their reaction, I continue. "It turns out the brain releases tons of endorphins and pain-relieving neurotransmitters when some people watch porn, and it was the only way for him to be relieved from the pain," I laugh, and everyone starts to laugh as well, even if its a bit reluctant like the one from Herschel.

Laughter fills the air, our chuckles merging into hearty, unrestrained laughter. It's not that the story itself is that hilarious, but the release of pent-up tension and shared connection is what makes it so uproariously funny. It's an escape from the perpetual dread that hovers over us.

"It was very distracting while trying to take his vitals, I'll tell you that," I grin, making the chuckles grow louder, Glenn hiding his shaking face at his table.

"What's so funny?" Carl's voice suddenly breaks through the laughter as he appears in the doorway, accompanied by Sophia.

A sudden silence falls over the room, the quiet so profound that you could hear a pin drop.

My heart sinks and my smile drops from my face in an instant as I jump up, a surge of concern replacing my amusement.

"Carl, you should not be out of bed!" I exclaim with panic, making both Rick and Lori stand up from their seats, the scrape of the chairs on the wooden floor punctuating the silent room.

Carl shifts nervously, his gaze darting between me and his parents.

"It's just you all sounded like you were having fun," He admits sheepishly, looking at the floor. I let out a tired sigh, a pang of empathy tugging at my chest for the kid.

Rick glances at me, perhaps to gauge the seriousness of the situation. I gently shake my head, dread surging through me.

"Carl, you could seriously damage your recovery getting out of bed like that. You need to go back and lay down," I order gently.

Lori pushes her chair to the table, rushing over to him. "I'll take him to bed," She says hurriedly, ushering him and Sophia out of the room.

As they leave, I sit back down, taking a sip of water, a twist of guilt churning in my stomach.

I shouldn't have let him stay there without supervision.

"Kids huh?" Shane chimes in from beside me, eliciting chuckles from the table. I manage a half-hearted smile but don't join in, my concern lingering as I absentmindedly chew my bottom lip.

Part of me considers following them to make sure Carl is okay, but before I can act, Rick's voice reaches me, drawing my attention away from my thoughts.

"Don't blame yourself," Rick murmurs, those blue eyes unfeigned in his sincerity.

My eyes flit up to meet his and I nod, a sense of gratitude welling up within me. "Still, I'm sorry. I should have been more clear with him," I apologize with a gulp.

Those fucking butterflies won't go away as I watch him shake his head with a meaningful look, before going back to eating his meal.

I tear my eyes away from his frustratingly attractive face, focusing instead on the poorly made potatoes on my plate, willing those feelings for a married man to just go away.